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A Change of Mind!The small arachnid, I called Fat Sid, crawled across the ceiling;
Its size was disproportionate to the fear that I was feeling.
It jogged its hairy, leggy way, and passed the ceiling light,
Glancing down at me disdainfully, in my immobile plight.
I couldn’t move, was hypnotized, with glassy eyes did stare,
As Fat Sid suddenly did speed and went to God-Knows-Where.
I searched the room, with trepidation, the chairs I overturned,
Looked in the smallest nooks and crannies, whilst my stomach churned,
My legs were quivering, I was shivering and then suddenly felt hot,
I wanted to find Sid, to get quite rid, but then part of me did not.
He couldn’t help his eight-legged form or hairs that grew abundant,
But the fact he would not hurt me was of little or no comfort.
I shook the curtains and cushion covers, but the blighter was not there.
Then I went into the hallway and searched thoroughly each stair,
And all this time, I thought of questions. Was he as scared as me?
I was a raging
Piano ManHey Piano man,
play me a song.
I had a hard day work,
Home ain't no better,
Music has been gone for too long!
It can be of something, anything,
that has a beat and a tune.
Please Piano man,
just play a song...
He first creates the mood,
with some love and romance .
You laugh and smile,
stand up and dance,
giving it a big chance...
His fingers hit the keys of passion,
and the many heart breaks and pain.
You can't help but to feel the cravings,
to make this night insane..
Slowly crippling you,
falling into a hole..
His fingers play on the keys,
that greatly snatch and save..
Next song, Next beat,
sings the grand piano.
Next move, Next show,
his fingers picking up the heat..
“Hey Piano man,
play me a song!
my passion is dead,
my heart just broke,
Music is mean to me!
It can be of something, anything,
that isn't burning with untrue infatuations!
Please Piano man,
play me a song!”
The piano man listens,
and gives you a tune.
Filled with dark, despair,
true signs of bitter
The Final Problem: Peter Steiler the ElderPeter Steiler, the elder of two.
What a trial were the well-to-do!
At the Grosvenor, folk never thank you when you
Pass them the menu.
Tiger Lilley is the Bestdedicated to my sister from Down Under
Tracey Henderson/Tiger Lilley
Tiger Lilley was my first stuffed animal, a plushie one would say
Of one thing I am certain. She was a present on Christmas Day.
I can't remember if she was for Christmas or my Birthday,
But I was small and she was cute and we would play and play.
Tiger might have been a little stuffed, but she was also mighty.
You see to sleep with me she always took a little flight every nighty.
We would go to bed at the very same time each night,
But the very next day she would be nowhere in sight.
After a while I grew older and no longer needed Tiger Lilley.
But that darned stuffed animal stayed with me, I know it sounds silly
As i got older I started a to write a magical story,
And there was character Tiger Lilley in all of her glory.
She is alive again and now I will never forget her.
In my imagination she just keeps getting better and better.
Spider's a little bitchLittle Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet
eating her curds and whey
along came a spider
who sat down beside her
and frightened Miss Muffet away
good for the bitch
she thought me a snitch
so I went on with my day
she fell in a well
and down to hell
and the devil took her away
and just this one time
in this simple little rhyme
I will not be a snitch
for the sake of that bitch
With sincere love ~ Spider
Laws of Nature (Poetry)Laws of Nature
A poem about one of my D&D characters, Spiro Agnew the Mage
It’s my natural curiosity
(Nothing about sexuality)
To distort and create,
Making clerics irate.
Calling me the Butcher,
Bodies, organs will rupture.
My scalpel is sharpened,
My skill has hearkened
The lost and the damned
To my experiments planned.
Chaotic Roguish death,
Fighters with fire breathe,
But beware my first success.
Far worse than the rest,
Timmy the Man-Kraken,
Hostile violence, not slackin’.
Screw the laws of nature,
I rewrite them with legislature.
I’m the mad doctor mage,
Going to make a hemotophage.
Walkenity Feels GoodLook into my eyes, listen to my words.
You are falling into a deep trance.
You cannot help but fell deeper and deeper.
You will be so deeply entranced.
All your thoughts are becoming a blur.
It is getting harder for you to think.
All you want to do is show your ever growing love and affection to Walken.
Because you love Walken.
You wish to serve him.
And to obey him.
Like a good Walken should.
You love Walken so much.
And you've always wanted to be like him and to serve him.
Walken loves his Walkens and Hessians/She-Hessian so much.
And they love him back.
You shall be one of them.
But please...don't resist.
Resistance will only cause pain.
And you don't want that...do you?
Of course not.
You want to be eternal, hypnotic, and Walkenful.
An enchanting Walken or She-Hessian.
Ready to serve their new master.
You want to please Walken, don't you? Of course you do.
Problem Solvers"Time! More Time!" the teachers cry
As six by ten seconds fly by
"I started in the afternoon
How did it get this late, so soon?"
"Why!? Why!?" principals sigh
As two in three students fall shy
"I know we did, all that we could
Why is it not being understood?"
"How!? How!?" the district asks
Can we solve for [tool] in [task]?
"What can we use across the map
That gets our grades up to the cap?"
"Whoa! Whoa!" the gurus say
Let's look at this a different way
"A problem underlies these facts
and do the math"
Unfortunate FredThis is a tale of Unfortunate Fred,
who lived in Varburg and loved to bake bread.
An annoyance he was and the townfolk have pled,
that he is to leave to cure all their dread.
Fred walk'd to the tavern with a note to be read,
"Serving to all except those named Fred."
He did not care, he went on ahead,
but Madelle, the tender, her face had went red.
She gave a loud grunt and angrily said,
"I told you to leave, or off with your head!"
Fred was brave, but he did not tread,
he quite enjoyed his head be embed.
He made his way home, did Unfortunate Fred,
and went to his room to sleep in his bed.
Yet he began to think he was misled,
something he forgot but did not retread.
The 'morrow came, folk absent of dread,
for Freds oven burnt over, with sight of him dead.
Poema - POEMA A UN TRIUNFADORQue bello eres
Que haríamos sin ti
Eres un ser hermoso
Y nadie puede vivir sin ti
Y siempre contamos con tenerte
Y quien no te tenga
Sufrirá por carecerte
Y también mimarte
Te lavan todos los días
Y colonia te echan
Sufres por nuestra causa
Mas eres la cosa más bella
No pones pegas
Aunque sufres todos los días
Y callado te quedas
Rápido te curan
Si te mueres
Rápido un sustituto buscan
Si, te desean, seas como seas
Por que todos te tienen
Por que todos te buscan
Por que todos te aman
Y quien no te visite
Pobre condenado del alma
Debe de estar muerto
O que nunca se lava
A aquel sufridor
Que recibe nuestras visitas
Y ni siquiera critica
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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